


no white flags

by Kaslyna



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Bets, Biting, Competition, F/M, Gen, Hickeys, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 08:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5861578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaslyna/pseuds/Kaslyna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, they're both too stubborn to know when to call a truce, and sometimes, things get out of hand. </p><p>Or, the one in which Han and Leia have a fight over who can leave the most blatantly obvious hickeys on the other, Chewbacca and Lando bet who'll cave first, and Luke really wishes that Mon Mothma and General Rieekan didn't equate being a Jedi Master to being a marriage counselor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no white flags

**Author's Note:**

  * For [okayhotshot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/okayhotshot/gifts).



> Hi hello! So my first foray into Star Wars fic. I've fallen into Han/Leia garbage and can't get up. Inspired by a conversation with my friend; I just had to write it. Enjoy!

She probably really shouldn’t have been surprised. Han was a biter; they both were, admittedly, and sex was just another argument between them sometimes, albeit with less words than a true fight. And, admittedly, she liked the idea of having his mark on her, and hers on him. So really, Leia probably shouldn’t have been surprised, except she was, because this was the first time he’d left a mark on her neck, where it was pretty blatantly a hickey. Han generally stuck to safer territory, bruises in the shape of his teeth on her inner thighs, her stomach, her breasts; the most daring he’d gotten before was the tops of her breasts, along her collarbone. 

 

Surprise quickly melted into irritation; she had a meeting with some of the Alliance higher-ups in less than half an hour, and she was already running late because he’d let her fall asleep after they’d fucked, damn him. He’d given her a puppy dog look as he’d explained that she wasn’t getting enough sleep, and he didn’t have the heart to wake her. She’d rolled her eyes and climbed out of bed to head to the ‘fresher, where she’d discovered the offending mark on her neck (along with four other fresh bite marks scattered across her body, on her left breast, the inside of her right thigh, her belly, her left hip). There’d be no time to cover up the bite on her neck; Leia still had to put her hair up, a process that would take her at least a full twenty minutes.

 

“Han,” she yelled, and she cringed internally at how shrill her voice sounded, but there was no changing that now.

 

He came in quickly, brow furrowed in confusion, and Leia almost forgot for a moment that she was mad at him when he looked that cute-damn him. She focused on schooling her expression as he approached her, cautious lest she be furious enough to cause him bodily harm. Leia wouldn’t, of course not, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel a twinge of satisfaction at instilling such fear in a man like Han Solo.

 

“Leia?” he asks, a foot away from her now and stopped. Leia frowns up at him, and she hates the way he can’t quite hide his smile at her rage.

 

“What the hell is this?” she hisses, moving her hair aside to point to the mark just above her pulse point. She sees him swallow, the way his pupils dilate slightly; despite his attempts at being serious, it’s clear that Han’s turned on by his mark so blatantly on her neck. Leia resists the urge to roll her eyes; typical male.

 

“Looks like a hickey to me,” Han replies, raising a brow, a smug smirk creeping slowly onto his features, “Would’ve thought you’d know what they look like by now, Leia.”

 

“This. Is not. Funny,” she seethed, irritation flushing through her entire body, “I have a meeting in less than half an hour and I still have to do my hair, I don’t have  _ time _ to cover this up!”

 

“You’ve never cared if I left a mark before,” his brow furrows, and now he looks confused and vaguely irritated, on the defensive. 

 

Leia rolled her eyes, “That’s because you’ve never left one where  _ the leaders of the Alliance could see it _ !”

 

Han smirked again, “It’s not like they don’t know we’re sleeping together, Leia.”

 

“Do you  _ ever _ take anything seriously?!” she was aware she was shouting, and wasting more time, but she couldn’t help it. Han was just so infuriating sometimes.

 

“Well, you take things seriously enough for the both of us,” he replied, his voice and face hardened, revving up for a fight now too, “One of us how to know how to relax.”

 

“You are just! So!” she threw up her hands and made a noise of frustration, glaring at him. Leia’s chest rolled with the breaths she took; she could no longer tell if she was angry or aroused, or maybe both, as it tended to be.

 

“So…?” he prompted, raising an eyebrow, daring her to continue. 

 

Leia growled; damn him for egging her on! She’d show him, if he really didn’t think it was that big of a deal. But she’d have to wait to exact her revenge later; she was already running too late as it was. Let him think he’d won if he wanted; he could fall into a false sense of security, and his smug complacency would definitely lend better to her plan. Leia could feel some of the frustration and irritation ebb away as she concocted her plan. She shot him one last glower before brushing past him; Leia would have to do her best to look presentable. The rebellion came first; her revenge could come later.

 

-o-o-o-

 

The meeting went off without a hitch. No one had noticed the mark on Leia’s neck, thanks to the long strands of hair she’d left down to cover it. Of course, that brought along its own set of questions, but these were far less embarrassing questions to answer.

 

She grabbed dinner in the mess with Luke, who had stopped by to meet with high command for a couple of days before he returned to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. The rebellion had yet to fully move to the old capital; there were still far too many things to be done in the field for that. Luke told her that he’d seen Han with Lando and Chewie earlier on the  _ Falcon _ ; the three would probably get dinner together, and so Leia had agreed to eat with her twin brother. It was still odd to think of Luke that way, but it was a good thing. 

 

After dinner, Leia headed back to her bunk. Technically, she shared the small room with Han, but as the Alliance was still wary of officially recognizing their relationship, it was hers. Officially, Han stayed on the  _ Millennium Falcon _ , but it was common knowledge that unofficially, Han often spent his nights on base in Leia’s room. Leia didn’t particularly like that everyone in the Alliance seemed to have an opinion on her love life, but it seemed so long as no one brought it up on either side, things were okay; a truce had been reached.

 

Han was already in her bunk when she got there. Leia frowned; she hadn’t remembered giving him the codes, but then, she supposed that R2 had probably helped him, and it was better this anyways than him sitting outside her room in the corridor where anyone and everyone could see. Not that Leia was ashamed of their relationship; far from it, but she didn’t particularly want to find out what’d happen if she flaunted it in front of her superiors.

 

“Did anyone ask about it?” he nodded vaguely to her neck, and Leia felt another spike of irritation. It was definitely time to exact her revenge.

 

“No,” Leia shrugged a bit, “They did ask why my hair was mostly down, though.”

 

“I like it down,” Han admitted, an arrogant and wolfish grin on his handsome face, “Especially when you’re naked.”

 

Leia smirked; there was no reason why her revenge couldn’t involve a little fun. She undid the half-updo she’d put her hair into, and then undid the fastenings of her dress. Han watched, content not to do more than that as she let the fabric slip down her shoulders and off her body, pooling at her feet. She watched his eyes darken and his throat bob as he swallowed, taking in the sight of her. Leia removed the practical bra and underwear, standing fully nude before him. She watched as his eyes roved her form, lingering on the marks he’d left this morning. 

 

“Come here, Leia,” Han said, his already husky voice deeper than usual with arousal. Leia hummed softly in agreement and began moving towards him, teasingly slow, until she rested between his legs, his large hands spanning her hips. Leia leaned down to catch his lips with hers, sucking and nipping playfully at his bottom lip. Han moaned softly in response, and Leia couldn’t stop the smile on her face. 

 

The next moments were a blur as Leia disentangled herself from Han long enough to help him undress. When he was as naked as her, Han settled back in the bunk. Leia was grateful for a moment that this bunk didn’t have a low ceiling; Han was able to sit as she straddled him. Leia liked this position; though it didn’t allow for a lot of movement, she loved the way it felt to have his chest pressed against hers, the way it sent a jolt straight between her legs every time her nipples brushed against the smooth muscle and wiry hairs of his torso.

 

Leia kissed her way along Han’s jawline, up behind his left ear, and down his neck. She felt his hands digging into her ass and hip so hard she wondered if there’d be a mark as his hips rolled up into hers, seeking some kind of relief. Leia smirked, and darted her tongue out to lick at the place just above his pulse point, where he’d marked her. Leia bit at the skin, almost hard enough to break it, and when Han  _ whimpered _ , she had to roll her hips back down into his to attempt to relieve the ache between her thighs. If anything, it only served to intensify it. Leia suckled at the mark she’d left, and then soothed it with her tongue. She smirked a little, and felt Han’s near-trembling form beneath her start slightly as he realized what she’d done.

 

“Leia,” he growled.

 

“Han,” she mocked, unable to keep the smug pride out of her voice.

 

“That was low,” he announced as he rolled them so Leia was on her back. There was a challenging gleam in his eye as he pinned her hands at the wrists above her head. Leia groaned at the pleasure-pain of it, and watched in satisfaction as his eyes darkened.

 

He let go of her wrists, and she thread her hands in his hair, bringing him close enough to her lips that she couldn’t tell her exhales from his inhales. Leia hooked a leg around his waist and smiled up at him, using the slight leverage to pull his full weight on top of her. Han kissed her again, biting her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Leia growled at him for it, and Han licked at the wound in a halfhearted apology.

 

“I’m not sorry,” Leia informed him as seriously she could manage. She let out a small gasp as he gripped her right thigh, bringing her leg higher so he could position himself at her entrance.

 

“I’m sure you’re not,” he grunted in agreement. With one roll of his hips, he entered her, and Leia couldn’t stop the moan that escaped her throat, nor the way her body arched and her eyes rolled back at the sensation of him inside of her. Leia liked sex with Han; she liked it, a  _ lot _ . She loved the times they went slow, when it was tender and loving and passionate. Those were usually after long missions away, or after they’d thought they’d lost the other. She loved the frenzied times too, up against walls; sometimes in their eagerness they didn’t even take off any clothes, and Leia had to admit she liked that primal, senseless rutting just as much as the playful sex they were having now. There were also the times with hands and mouths, and Leia loved those, too.

 

“Okay, hotshot,” Leia’s voice wavered slightly as he moved inside of her, a maddeningly slow pace intended to keep her on the razor’s edge of orgasm, never quite enough to send her over, “But  _ you _ started it.”

 

“ _ Me _ ?” he sounded incredulous, and Leia wondered if he actually was surprised, or just messing with her.

 

“Yes,  _ you _ ,” Leia growled, “Leaving a goddamn bite on my neck, where everyone could see!”

 

“I thought you weren’t ashamed of us,” there was no hint of insecurity in Han’s voice; he knew  _ exactly _ what she thought of them.

 

“I’m not,” she agreed, “But that doesn’t mean I want you branding me!”

 

Han laughed, “As if I’d ever be  _ that _ stupid to even try.”

 

Leia hummed, snaking a hand between their bodies to play at her own clit, “Turnabout’s fair play, Han. Don’t dish out what you can’t take.”

 

“You should take your own advice, princess,” he growled, a shiteating grin on his face as he gently swatted her hand away to replace it with his own.

 

Before Leia could ask him what he meant by that, Han had buried his face in the juncture where her neck and shoulder met. His thrusts sped up, and he increased the pressure on her clit. With a perfectly timed roll of his hips and a hard press of his thumb onto the bundle of nerves between her legs, Leia came, gasping his name and almost blacking out at the intensity of the orgasm that rolled through her.

 

She vaguely registered Han’s grunt as he climaxed, idly running her hands through his hair as if on autopilot. His arms gave out and he collapsed onto her; Leia could admit to liking the crushing weight of his body on hers as they recovered. He slipped out of her and rolled onto his side facing away from her; Leia pressed her smaller frame against his back, reaching to pull the blanket up over them. She kissed the back of his neck and settled back down, too tired to do anything else before succumbing to sleep.

 

-o-o-o-

 

“HAN SOLO,” Leia’s loud yelling woke him the next morning. He barely missed smacking his head on the ceiling of their bunk as he half-fell, half-jumped, out of the bed. In his half awake state, Han didn’t fully register the probable cause of Leia’s ire until he was already at the door to the ‘fresher, and it was too late to run.

 

Leia was five feet and one inch of indignant rage, practically trembling from it. Her brown eyes flashed with anger and Han couldn’t help but finding it just a teeny bit hot. Only a little, though, because currently all that rage was being directed at him. Or, more specifically, the fresh bite on Leia’s shoulder that he’d left last night when she’d climaxed as retaliation for the bite she’d left on his neck.

 

“I’m sorry?” he tried, wincing at how insincere he sounded, even to his own ears. Leia’s eyes flickered and her fists clenched; she was pissed.

 

“Just remember,” Leia growled, stepping closer to him, “That you started it.”

 

Then she bit hit, hard, along his jawline, sucking on it to ensure that it formed a lasting mark. Han didn’t bother trying to push her off; he knew it’d serve to anger her further. He’d get his revenge, later on.

 

Leia kissed him, hard and almost brutal, and then she released him, leaving the ‘fresher to finish getting ready for the day in their bunk.

 

-o-o-o-

 

“Are those hickeys?” Lando asked him, snickering. Han let out an indignant noise of protest, but it was too late; Lando had seen the mark on his neck and jaw, and was waving Chewbacca over.

 

[How badly did you piss Leia off, Han?] Chewie asked, dissolving into his barking laugh. Han growled in mild frustration.

 

Just as Han was going to answer, in came the aforementioned woman herself. She’d pulled her hair into a low, braided bun, and covered up the mark on her neck this morning; the one near her shoulder could be relatively hidden. However, that had been four hours ago; the makeup on her neck had rubbed off, and her shirt-a hand me down a size or two too big from another female rebel soldier-had slid down her shoulder just enough to reveal the bite there as well. Lando and Chewie stared, incredulous; Lando blinked, and began guffawing.

 

Leia rolled her eyes, then glared daggers at Han, muttering, “This is your fault.”

 

She stormed off, and Han only briefly wondered what she’d come by the  _ Falcon _ for in the first place before he winced as he realized he was probably in deep trouble now. Lando and Chewie were still laughing to themselves; traitorous bastards. Han grunted at them that he had to work on something inside the ship. Much to his dismay, they followed him.

 

“Is this a war between you two now?” Lando teased, a devilish gleam in his eyes, “Trouble in paradise?”

 

“We’re  _ not _ having trouble, Lando,” Han growled as he toyed with a part that didn’t  _ really _ need to be toyed with at all.

 

[I bet Han calls a truce first] Chewie told Lando, chuckling still.

 

“Oh, you’re on,” Lando replied smoothly, “But I bet it’ll be Leia. Han may have a soft spot for her, but she’s a woman. Women tend to cave first, y’know.”

 

Han snorted, “No wonder you can’t get a girlfriend, with that kind of talk coming out of your mouth.”

 

Lando smirked, “Who said I wanted one? Not all of us enjoy being tied down to domestic bliss, Han. You seem to have forgotten that.”

 

[I might not agree with your reasoning] Chewie placated, [But that doesn’t mean I won’t take your wage. You’re on, Lando Calrissian.]

 

Han did his best to tune the two men out as they discussed the parameters of their little bet. As it was, he’d have to grovel to Leia for their comments earlier; if she caught wind of this wager, all hell would break loose for real. Han winced at the thought; he loved Leia, and he knew she loved him, too, but that didn’t mean that if he or anyone else pushed too far she wouldn’t close herself off from him. He didn’t blame her; they were both fiercely stubborn, hotheaded, and with egotistical streaks a mile wide. They fought as much as they fucked, sometimes both at once. And when under too much pressure, they both tended to shut everyone else out. They did their best not to shut the other out, but there were still times where Han couldn’t tell Leia why he’d woken up screaming, or times when Leia refused to discuss something that had obviously upset her that had been said during an Alliance meeting he hadn’t been invited to. They did their best, and they made it work. It was far from perfect, but it was theirs, and Han would be damned if he let Lando or Chewie or anyone get in the way of that.

 

With a sigh, Han moved onto the next part of the ship to mess with, even though his ship was in surprisingly good condition as is.

 

-o-o-o-

 

Of all the things Luke had been expecting to be asked as the only current Jedi Master, he definitely wasn’t expecting it to be Mon Mothma and General Rieekan practically begging him to settle some dispute between, of all people, Han Solo and Leia Organa. It’d been half of a year now since he’d told his sister who they were, and they were both still adjusting. For the most part, their friendship worked pretty well, and Han was like another sibling to Luke. From what Luke had heard, they’d been doing okay; but according to Mon Mothma and General Rieekan, they’d been arguing for the past four days, and it was now apparently out of hand enough that they were asking him to intervene, as a friend, and as a Jedi Master.

 

So here he was, outside of the quarters that were officially Leia’s, though unofficially, she shared them with Han. Luke tried not to dwell on that too much. Leia was Force sensitive, like him, and sometimes he got glimpses of things he didn’t need or want to know about; he did his best to strengthen his mental shields, since Leia didn’t want to become a Jedi. Mon Mothma and General Rieekan had suggested he wait inside Leia’s quarters, as they both could obviously override Leia’s codes, but Luke had decided sitting and waiting in the hall was a better course of action. That way there was no chance of Han and Leia coming into their quarters expecting privacy; Luke didn’t particularly want to deal with that potential scenario. Ever. 

 

The scenario he was tasked to deal with, however, was almost as bad. They both blinked in surprise at his presence, as Luke stood to take them in. What appeared to be bite marks littered their necks, collarbones, and shoulders; a few dotted along their jaws and behind ears. Luke blinked, a bit shocked; he hadn’t been given very many details on the dispute, but he was definitely  _ not _ expecting this to be it. He could feel the onset of a small headache; for Force’s sake, he was a Jedi Master, not a marriage counselor!

 

“Mon Mothma and General Rieekan sent me,” Luke explained, watching as Leia stiffened and flushed crimson, and Han frowned a little in confusion, “They said there was some dispute. I didn’t realize playing marriage counselor fell under the jurisdiction of the Jedi.”

 

“We’re not-” Leia began, then sighed and dropped it, rolling her eyes a little as she stepped forward to unlock the door. Luke gently grabbed her wrist, forcing her to meet his eyes.

 

“Hey,” he said softly, “They were gonna lock me in your quarters without your permission to wait for you. I chose to sit outside here instead, because trust me, I don’t really want to get into the middle of my twin sister’s domestic disputes either.”

 

Leia softened a little, and sighed, “Alright. I’ll see if someone can bring us dinner, at least, if this is gonna be a while.”

 

Luke nodded his assent, and they all entered Leia’s quarters. Han called C3PO to ask the droid to bring them food as Leia attempted to be as discreet as possible as she cleaned the room, removing various unmentionables strewn about. Luke awkwardly took a seat at the little table in the middle of the room. It was slightly cramped, with the three of them; the spartan room was never meant to entertain any guests.

 

“So,” Luke began, once the food had been delivered and they were all settled around the tiny table, “What’s this issue that made the Alliance command come to me to settle it?”

 

He had a pretty good idea, so he wasn’t too surprised when Leia muttered, “Hickeys. Han started it.”

 

Han let out a noise, and Luke held up a hand to request silence; when he got it, Luke started, “Let me guess: Han left a mark on your neck, you got pissed and clearly retaliated-” Luke gestured vaguely towards Han, “-And then  _ he _ retaliated, and then you did, and it got out of hand and now it’s a war and both of you are too damn stubborn to declare a truce, and it came to the attention of the high command and  _ I  _ got dragged into it. Am I close?”

 

“Dead on,” Leia admitted in a sheepish mumble.

 

Han just nodded, and then Luke nodded and said, “Okay. Well, it needs to stop. So I’m declaring a truce now.”

 

Han and Leia shared a look; Leia sighed, rolled her eyes, and then they both turned to Luke and nodded, a bit mortified and a lot humbled. Luke smirked, and dug into his food finally; he was starved.

 

-o-o-o-

 

“So, who caved first?” Lando demanded the next day, “I bet it was Leia, wasn’t it?”

 

Han rolled his eyes a bit, “Actually, neither of us.”

 

[What?] Chewie roared.

 

Han smirked, “Luke stepped in and demanded we stop fighting. So actually, no one caved. Have fun sorting it out, boys.”

  
And with that, he left them, up the ramp to board the _Falcon_.


End file.
